


le apparenza

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Florence Arc, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Bedelia’s hand moves to her side zipper and Hannibal’s attention turns razor sharp, ready to assist her at the flick of her fingers. But she does not need his help it seems, as she pulls the zipper halfway down herself. His gaze falls in brief disappointment and it does not escape her attention; the corner of her mouth turns up in an amused half smile.





	le apparenza

“I think the evening went rather well.”

Hannibal hears the sharp sound of heels approaching, ringing pleasantly in his ears, as Bedelia enters the bedroom to join him.

“It did,” she responds, “Considering all the odds.”

His head turns at once to meet a smile adorning her lips, a reward for the lack of unforeseen events at tonight’s gala.

“We made an excellent impression on the museum board,” he remarks as he watches her take off her shoes, slipping them off absentmindedly and leaving them without care next to the door. He adores to see her so at ease.

“Well, they were all enamoured with you,” she walks towards her vanity, suddenly smaller without her heels, the train of her dress now following behind her.

Hannibal smiles; he has always loved how petite she is.

“Most of their eyes were on you,” he responds with obvious pride as he takes off his jacket and folds it neatly to place on the bed, “Signor Bianchi has been especially impressed by you. I believe his offer of a private tour of Palazzo Pitti is still available.”

“He was mostly impressed with the low cut of my dress,” Bedelia remarks and Hannibal’s jaw tightens at once as he files the man’s name in the back of his mind for later consideration.

“Hannibal,” her voice brings him back from the depths of his thoughts, “You know I can take care of myself.”

She watches him carefully, her sharp gaze underlined with concern. A concern for him, he knows it well; it is a strange sensation, having someone care about him this way.

“Of course,” he nods in agreement, something swelling in his heart as he looks at the woman standing in front of him.

Bedelia’s hand moves to her side zipper and Hannibal’s attention turns razor sharp, ready to assist her at the flick of her fingers. But she does not need his help it seems, as she pulls the zipper halfway down herself. His gaze falls in brief disappointment and it does not escape her attention; the corner of her mouth turns up in an amused half smile. She abandons the zipper and moves to sit at her vanity's chair. Hannibal’s eyes linger, waiting for her to continue undressing, but are treated to another setback when she takes off her earring instead.

Reluctantly, he shifts his gaze, focusing on his own clothes; he unties his bow, fingers starting to work on unbuttoning the shirt next. Suddenly, he pauses; he lifts his head and sees Bedelia’s intensive stare, reflected in the mirror, locked on him. Her hand hovers next to her ear, the other earring forgotten. Hannibal holds her gaze as he continues to undo the buttons, moving slower now, watching for any shift in her eyes. They grow wider, two gas flames burning brightly, as he lets the shirt hang loosely, revealing his taunt chest; it is an involuntary reaction, leaving her feelings overly exposed for him to see, one she seeks to remedy at once.

Her hand now returns to the neglected task and removes the solitary earring. Hannibal smiles, watching her try to regain her composure, which is equal to an upper hand in her mind. Having taken off her bracelet next, Bedelia stands up, her fingers now back on the zipper. She pulls it all the way down, revealing a tempting glance of her sun-kissed skin. But not enough; the fitted fabric remains clinging stubbornly to her curves and she makes no attempt to help it along.

“We had quite a lot of social engagements this week,” she says calmly, staring back at him, pleased with her restored advantage over him.

Hannibal licks his lips; his hunger now fully awaken. He stares at the soft side curve of her breast, peeking beneath the parted charmeuse.

“Yes, we are the thrill of novelty at present,” he forces his eyes to move up and meet hers.

He tilts his head to the side as if trying to remember what he was doing, then brushes the shirt off his shoulders in one fluid motion, letting it land on the floor, for once not bothered with the proper care of the fabric. A different kind of smile plays about Bedelia’s lips as her eyes scrutinise his upper body with obvious delight.

“We don’t have to attend them if it tires you,” Hannibal concludes, his hands moving to undo his belt.

“No, I enjoy them,” Bedelia’s gaze follows his ministrations, attempting not to look too interested and failing, the seams of her tight self-command now hanging loose.

“I am happy to hear that,” Hannibal pulls down his pants and turns, placing them on the bed, giving Bedelia a nice view of his behind clad in a pair of fitted boxers.

He can hear her shifting in her spot; he’s glad she cannot see the grin passing over his lips.

“And we do have to keep up the _appearances_ ,” she says slowly, and Hannibal feels as though the room has grown warmer in an instant.

Turning back to face her, he knows she has been waiting for him to look at her. Her hands move unhurriedly, gripping the top of her dress and tugging the fabric down. Her luscious breasts, toned stomach come to view one at the time, like a piece of art slowly unfolding from under the cover. Bedelia’s fingers push the dress over the curve of her hips and the material is finally free to fall to the ground, leaving her standing in nothing but a pair of stockings and black lace underwear.

“The appearances leave nothing to be desired,” he utters hoarsely, his throat suddenly dry.

It is more than just the beauty of naked body, he thinks, it’s the confidence with which she carries herself, especially when naked, that renders him completely undone.

Bedelia smiles again, a satisfied smirk of successful hunter, and Hannibal is more than happy to be her pray. He inhales sharply as she starts walking towards him, his body tense with anticipation, but it turns into a downhearted exhale as she passes by him without stopping.

The evening coming to an inconclusive end, Hannibal bends down to pick up the abandoned shirt, splayed lifelessly on the floor, much like his spirits.

“I was planning to take a bath.” Bedelia’s voice stops him mid-gesture. He turns his head to see her standing by the door, her perfect figure framed by the golden lights seeping from the living room, looking at him expectantly.

“Do you care to join me?” She barely finishes the question before Hannibal abandons his spot and rushes towards her, hands already reaching out to envelop her naked body.

Bedelia chuckles as he lifts her up and carries her towards the bathroom.

A great evening has just turned spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was suggested ages ago, I finally got inspired to write it. As they say, slow and steady wins the race.


End file.
